


Lonely Tunes

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-25
Updated: 2006-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8093998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Even Vulcan girls get the blues. (10/04/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 1.08 "Breaking The Ice," 1.17 "Fusion," 2.12 "The Catwalk," 2.21 "The Breach."  
  
Archer sings "Not While I'm Around" from the musical by Stephen Sondheim, _Sweeney Todd._  


* * *

T'Pol had known from the very beginning that she was developing what oddly looks like admiration for Jonathan Archer. The captain happened to be the first Human she had witnessed saying out loud what most people did not even dare to think unconsciously.

He was smart, he was bold, he was charming and the crew loved him.

She loved him as well.

She had loved him for a long time.

Before she was sent as an observer on the human ship, she had spent seven years far from Vulcan and the last two in San Francisco area. The compound where she was living in Sausalito was far from everything she was dying to see, to experience, to analyze...and have a taste for herself.

She resisted during six months before curiosity took over discipline. She started going out at night. She bought herself a blonde wig, some fancy clothes and began a random exploration of the city. No one ever bother to disturb her or question her presence. She was bemused of that carefree atmosphere so remote from the rigid Vulcan way of life.

She had discovered that she shared a passion for Mahler and free jazz with a large group of very different people. Eventually, she tried new places, not always the ones that attract the right sort of people until she found a place where she felt comfortable. At the happy hour, anybody was entitled to play or sing. Or both.

On one December night, probably around Christmas -she remembered decorated trees and carols in the streets- she finally made it there through the worst icy wind that had blown over the bay for the last century.

She sat down at her usual spot, on the right side of the stage, trying to get warm. Here he was, playing the piano and softly singing to himself. A glass of ale was sitting on the edge of the piano and he was half facing her. A tall redheaded woman stepped in and they exchanged some talks. She leaned down to him and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He began to sing out loud, his eyes locked on hers.

It was a new experience for the Vulcan. She had seen performances of "Romeo and Juliet" and listened to many more operas and eventually love songs: the genre was exotic. But at this precise moment, she was not listening to an act but witnessing a real declaration. She could not take her eyes from the man who was singing his love to this woman.

The woman patted his shoulder with a sad smile and left the stage. T'Pol saw her get her way through the crowd out to the street. He kept on singing for a while, staring absently at her. She could not help from shivering under his seemingly scrutiny, even though she knew he could not spot her, hidden in the darkness of her corner.

More than two years later, she could anticipate the shudder from the last note that was still echoing in her mind.

More than two years later, she was this man second in command.

On that cold December night, she had learnt that he left the beautiful woman to reach out to his dream.

* * *

T'Pol was scanning the cluster and trying to figure out the meaning of that odd uneasiness she was experiencing since the virus threw her in an unexpected Pon Farr urge. She was almost back to normal levels of hormones.

Somehow, she was /feeling/...different.

On a Vulcan ship, has she ever acted the way she had with the ship's physician and the security team, she would have been outcast and secluded in her quarters.  
She was considered as a misfit de facto, since she broke her engagement to Koss. The High Counsel had probably left her on Enterprise to test her resistance. To them, to be a commanding officer on a human ship was merely torture. They had tried it before and all Vulcans failed to stay onboard an Earth ship for more than a fortnight.

On the contrary, she was having a great time. The more she was around Humans, the more she was seduced.

She was bewildered every time she has seen Archer engage useless small talk with any crewman on the ship, the way he had to make everyone feel special and needed. She could not chitchat the way he did. It was not the Vulcan way. It did not seem appropriate and yet it fulfilled its purpose: making the crew at home.  
A Vulcan would never have tried to make life easier on anyone.

She had tried to mimick him with Hoshi's help when they where stuck in the catwalk. But Hoshi was a born speaker. She would have talk to thin air to have the chance to understand the wind.

Vulcans would speak only if requested or even required, not to get involve in some kind of /companionship/. When one lives on a human ship, one must adapt. Salutations were put aside as often as possible and bonding was encouraged.

If they do not put an end to it, within two hundred years, entire family will be living on Starfleet ships. She already could list serious breaches of protocol and regulations aboard Enterprise, not to mention patent fraternisation examples among the crew.

How illogical...

Even the senior staff was at risk with that fling between Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato.

/Fling?/

Vernacular speech was rubbing off on her, she stated, arching an eyebrow. She cast a glance toward the captain's chair but he was away, probably working in his ready room. She held a hand to her PADD, resisting the temptation to go and talk to him about her latest survey.

Life was easier on Vulcan transports. Sexual tension was hidden deep inside the Vulcan brain, with everything planned and mastered since birth to make it even and passionless.

She sighed and leaned towards the screener of her console. She was tired of those routine scans. She straightened slightly, trying to get back her composure. The virus had made a mess of her. Her head was aching and her shoulders were stiff. Her mind got lost in some recreational projection.  
Maybe she could give it a try...She had to admit she was in great need of seeing him. Jonathan was probably only daydreaming in front of the porthole, watching the stars passing by.

They still had to arrange for that birthday present though. She jumped when Hoshi's voice eventually made its way to her ears.

"...Did you?"

She was in total disarray. She needed to meditate. Her attitude was unworthy of a Vulcan. Doing her best to appear as normal as can be, she blinked at Hoshi.

"Did you find the perfect gift?" she asked again.

"Yes ensign."

Hoshi leaned towards her and whispered. "I take it you're going for the book?"

"I don't think so."

The young ensign looked worried and hushed back. "Are you ok, M'am?"

"I am all right ensign. Thank you. I will be in sickbay if the captain needs me."

It was definitely time for that shot Phlox was supposed to give her. The fever was starting to burn up again. She slotted the viewscreen back in, startling Mayweather and Reed's replacement. She frowned, noticing that her mind was so blurred she could not get a match on the crewman's name. He was next door. She could go to him and make the fever go away...She stopped where she was and went back into dreaming mode.

"Is there something wrong sub-commander?"

Archer asked for the third time with a concerned look to his second in command. The Vulcan had been still since he had been back on the bridge. Alarmed, Archer came closer to the science station.

"T'Pol? Are you ok?"

The sub-commander was turning greyish and her eyes were unfocused. Hoshi glanced at the two of them and back at T'Pol. She reached out to the com to call for Dr Phlox. After what had happened to Lt Reed, she was not willing to take any chances. But Archer raised his hand, silently instructing her to delay her move.  
"T'Pol? Do you need my help?" he asked again.

She blinked and stared at him, unsettled.

"I have to report to sickbay, Captain." Hurrying to the turbolift, she gritted her teeth, avoiding looking at him and she was gone.

"Permission granted sub-commander. Keep me posted will you?" whispered Archer, avoiding Hoshi's worried look. He sat uncomfortably on the captain's chair and tried to go back to commanding mode.

* * *

It was not her time yet to experience the Pon Farr. She could make most of the pain and symptoms go away. When he was close, she had no control over it, even with Phlox's help.

She was sincerely hoping that Phlox was right when he assured her that he could act upon the fever and ease the pain. She clasped her hands on the control panel and arched under the sudden burst of violent images and emotions she was experiencing. She shouted in Vulcan and her voice echoed in the alley-way as the turbolift doors hissed open. She rushed out to sickbay, tumbling from wall to wall. She knew she had waited to long for the next shot.

Time had elapsed without her noticing it. She was lost in her fantasies. Under such stress, she might even prove to be a threat to the security of the ship. Focusing on Archer had triggered yet another attack of the Pon Farr, far more powerful than the first time in decon. She could not help but being single minded: Captain Archer was obsessing her.

She entered sickbay and almost collapsed in Phlox's arms.

"The captain took the liberty to call me. He is concerned about your present condition. Sub-Commander, maybe you should consider talking to him..."

She grasped his lab jacket, spitting the words in his face. "Give me the shot...I am in no condition to speak...Doctor...NOW!!"

She let go of him, arching under another wave of emotional attack. Her face turned greyish and she closed her eyes, barely keeping her balance.

The hiss of the hypo-spray.

The tidal wave of emotions was backing off of her mind. She shrugged as to get free from the wisps of the residual emotions and relaxed.

"That should do it," stated Phlox, acknowledging with relief the blatant change. "Maybe an extra shot will be needed. We will see in due time."

"I thank you doctor," said T'Pol, almost back to her normal composure, "I wish not to talk to the captain. I made some calculations and we should rendezvous with a Vulcan ship within a couple of weeks."

"I am not certain that you understand," began the doctor.

"I am quite aware of the situation, doctor. I am not going through my Pon Farr."

"Don't you forget that the virus induces the same reactions. You are aware that self control will not stop the fever. If that shot does not reduce your hormonal level dramatically, mating will be the only option. If only the Vulcan data base..."

"We have been reviewing that already, doctor," she interrupted harshly.

Phlox flinched. She was still very emotional. His treatment had not reached its purpose.

"I do not wish to question the decision of the Directorate regarding the contents of the medical database. I am aware Vulcans are highly secretive people."

"It is not your place to judge, doctor."

She stepped back, hands clasped behind her back.

"I am not sure that I will be able to come up with a satisfactory treatment, sub-commander. I wish I had more time."

"I will be back in seven hours," she said, barely acknowledging the physician's despair. "Thank you doctor." She bowed and left, her pace slower when she hesitated at the door to sickbay. She turned around.

"I will make an attempt at talking to the captain," she muttered.

The doors hissed closed and Phlox stared blankly, uncertain he heard her correctly.

* * *

She hesitated in front of the doors to the mess hall and finally stepped in, the perfect image of the perfect science officer. She noticed that everybody was in one's civvies and she stopped in the doorway. Maybe she should have...

"Here you are, sub commander!" Archer cheered her in, taking her arm to guide her to the back of the hall. He was in his blues and she slightly relaxed, letting him dragging her to the buffet. He was smiling and obviously very happy with the party.

She never should have come.

She will fake having a glass of any alcoholic beverage, will chew on a spoonful of cake and will return to her quarters to meditate. The touch of his hand on the fabric of her catsuit was setting her arm on fire. Desperately searching for Hoshi, she managed to get free of his hand and act normally. Archer bent his head to her and she saw his lips move. The heat was unbearable. She could hear a hundred conversations going on. He was offering her a glass of sparkling amber wine with an enticing smile.

"Won't you change your mind and try this, Sub Commander?"

Was he trying to make her drink? Was it customary in such circumstances? She had noticed that such behaviour was tolerated at the Vulcan Embassy in New York.

"I am quite certain captain. I have some more research to do; I should probably go back to my quarters."

Archer's brow almost reached his hair.

"You're teasing me, aren't you?" smiled Archer.

His sincerity was no act. He wanted her to have fun and being intoxicated was part of the deal.

"Vulcan do not tease, captain. It is inappropriate to think..."

"I was simply teasing you, sub-commander."

He was dangerously coming near her personal space, invading yet again her burning soul and triggering another wave of pleasure/pain. She arched an eyebrow and her lips quivered. His hand was on her elbow now. Firm and inviting. Chewing at the inside of her cheek, she stared blankly at him.

What the hell.

"You think I should give this beverage a try?"

She did not get the straight answer she was expecting.

"Champagne is not really alcohol, more like wine. Take a sip but I won't take no for an answer," he said, leaning to her ear, his breath in her neck.

She closed her eyes praying that nobody has witnessed the scene. She hastily put in place some extra mental shield and turned her face to his. Her lips were merely three inches from his. His eyes were sparkling. She had never noticed before that they were that peculiar shade of green with...

"...not this time," he insisted, his voice trailing in her ear.

What was that? She stepped away from him. Did she hear that right? She was paralysed like a deer caught in the headlights of a ground shuttle.

"There's a small amount of alcohol in wine," she yelped, desperately seeking a way out the embarrassing situation. Archer mumbled something about college and Vulcan physiology and she lost track of time once again and went back to blur mode. She heard the Denobulan physician's usual witticisms and one crewman acknowledging the fun of it while Hoshi was kidnapping her.

Good timing, she thought.

Archer was now several feet away from her and she was holding to a glass of Champagne like to a buoy. Hoshi took her to Travis and fed her a spoonful of her homemade chocolate cake. Chef wanted her to try an exotic fruit she knew she had not tested. She tasted the delicate wine. The sparkles were tingling on her lips. The sweet and acid flavour of the strawberries Chef insisted she had, bringing out the wine bouquet and leading her to experience another erotic reverie. She felt dizzy.

So much for her Vulcan allergies. 

Hoping that human cuisine had rubbed off on her during the last months, she washed down the fruit and the cake with yet another glass of wine.

Someone started singing out loud "happy birthday" and everybody sang along, Archer's voice sounding loud and clear above all others. Travis was busy at unwrapping his presents, a huge smile written on his face. When it came to their common present, she unconsciously stopped breathing and began to seek after Archer in the crowd.

She was in no condition to make a decision, either stay or go.

A crew member jostled her apologized. She barely winced. She made her way to the voice and the piano. She had been waiting for this moment since the first time she had listened to him that December night in San Francisco. And tonight, she will be the one he was singing to. She was aware they were no item, despite the knowing smiles of the crew and the continuing gossip, but tonight she was definitely willing to be his girl. She sat her glass on the edge of the piano and let her mind drift to the sound of the music. He was playing songs she had never heard before.

/No one's gonna harm you, not while I'm around, no one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare.../

Nobody was really paying attention to the first officer and his captain. They were caught in the music. When his eyes met hers, she did not blink or move. He finished the song with his eyes locked on hers. With the magic suddenly gone, she regained some composure and melded into the crowd.

She came across Phlox who stepped decisively in her way and stayed put in front of her. She barely heard him -something about the variety and the complexity of human cuisine- and when she saw the piece of cake he was holding on his fork, she almost lost her temper. She resisted the urge to push him aside, pondering the fact that she will probably hurt him in the process.

"I am not sure I agree," she said, her composure almost gone and unable to breathe properly. She could not help but to be fascinated by the cake and the dripping chocolate dressing and the smell and...

Her nasal inhibitor was failing her.

"On Vulcan, we do not celebrate birthdays," she said, taking a bite in Phlox's plate and swallowing nervously.

She had to go away from this place.

The shot was not helping and there were definitely too many people around. She was unable to cope with the odor and the sound of numerous conversations. On top of all, she could see only a kaleidoscope of moving colors.

"Are you feeling all right Sub Commander?" asked Phlox.

He seems concerned, she thought in a haze.

He came closer and whispered something she could not hear. Archer had stopped playing the piano. She sensed he was looking for her. She needed to meditate and go away from this place...the sooner the better. She gently pushed the doctor out of her way and bowed her head lightly.

"I should get back to my quarters. I am not well. Please inform the Captain that I will return to duty asap."

By the time Archer spotted her, she was long gone.

* * *

Not even the light of the soothing meditation candle was succeeding in easing her pain. Still another couple of hours before the next shot. Seated on the prayer blanket, she straightened her lotus position and closed her eyes once again in a futile attempt to focus on her katra. She had mastered the technique when she was three and now she merely...

The door chime interrupted her train of thoughts and she silently cursed in Vulcan.

Jonathan.

She still could sense his concern and his tumultuous thoughts. She should have wished him good night instead of leaving him abruptly: she would have avoided yet another unbearable tte tte.

"Come."

He stood in the doorway, his head slightly bent, and puzzlement on his face.  
"May I?"

"Please," she said, blowing the candle and standing up in the same motion. She felt naked under his gaze in her Vulcan gown and shivered. She motioned him to the seat and sat on her bed, facing him.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth but changed his mind. He shook his head and bent to her uncomfortably.

"T'Pol, you know you could talk to me, don't you?"

"Yes."

He looked disappointed. What was his point? He should have understood that the less she needed was that he inflicted his presence upon her. She sighed. She was deluding herself.

How would he know?

She was doing her best at concealing every thought or problem, mainly from him. He was as upset as concerned. She will have to speak out eventually, at least to gain his support for a rendezvous with the Vulcan ship. There was no way she would accept Archer to be a witness to her illness.

He was being patient.

She made a good job at being fascinated by her naked feet for some time and eventually gave him a poor attempt at a smile.

"Thank you, captain."

She was rewarded with a brilliant smile. She should have known he would go for it. Impulsive Humans, always their hearts on their sleeves...

She sighed again.

"I am not ready to confess to you yet," she murmured, avoiding looking him in the eyes. What was wrong with her? He was his commanding officer. There was no way they could have this conversation. It was doctor privilege and Phlox was a vault.

He sprang from his chair, arms spread out. "Confess?! What am I to you? A priest? Please relax, T'pol," he added, kneeling in front of her, his hands resting gently on her wrists. "Maybe you could simply /talk/ to me for a start," he laughed.

"I am sorry captain, I am experiencing increasing difficulties at voicing my..."

"Oh! Hush...Nothing can be that bad, sub-commander."

She still could hear the laughter in his voice. Was he trying to cheer her up? Because it was working, she noticed with a quip.

"Maybe you could start with a therapy I put myself to good use years ago. I experienced unsettling thoughts when my father passed away."

She listened carefully. Archer had many stories to tell about Henry Archer but he was very secretive when it came to speak his mind on the subject of his relationship with his father. And it was the first time he mentioned his father's death. His hands squeezed her arms a little, but he was far from realizing it indulged in his memories.

"Actually," he said, looking at her straight in the eyes, "every time I feel blue or lost or both, I sing. I must admit that sometimes it doesn't work, but most of the time, it does the trick."

She was disappointed he had changed his mind, but she could not help but feeling relieved he had not elaborated. Maybe it was not the right place or the right time.

A passing image of the two of them in bed, crying in each other arms, crossed her mind and she jerked from his light touch. She came slowly to the realization that he had planted those thoughts in her mind.

"Well, I guess I have had too much to drink tonight," he said, somehow apologizing for his disturbing thoughts. He stood up and shrugged.

"Indeed. Must I remind you that you sang tonight for Ensign Mayweather's party?"

"Because I seemed the right thing to do."

The right thing to do...

"I see." She did not understand a word he was saying. If singing and playing the piano was a bandage for the soul, why did he play tonight? Humans always seemed to rejoice of celebrating birthdays and throwing parties, even if it never occurred to them it was highly irrational. Celebrating the passing of time even when their lifetime was so limited...Now, it was her turn to be puzzled.

"I would like to join you in your meditation some day, T'Pol. I'm sorry it can't be right now, I guess it would get rid of that hangover. I'm expected on the bridge in less that two hours and I have to sober down."

He turned to the door then changed his mind. "Would you care to join me for a late/early coffee, sub-commander?"

"Coffee has little effect on Vulcan physiology."

"How the hell do you sober down then?"

"Vulcans don't drink, captain..." her voice trailed. She had had several glasses of Champagne at the party.

"I was under a different impression," he joked. "Never mind. If you need me, I'll be in my reading room, nursing my coffee pot."

If you need me?

Wrong choice of words.

She lighted up the meditation candle. "Computer, decrease light," she said, her eyes closed. But the face of Jonathan Archer kept haunting her.

* * *

She had no idea how she got onto the turbo lift but here she was, staring at the digits moving past her eyes. She was almost there. She put a hand on the case, the other absently smoothing the creases of her toga.

She should have known it would finally come to this.


End file.
